


somebody ought to corrupt you on the dance floor (and take you home)

by oliviacirce



Series: Five Votes [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Codependent Band Family, Families of Choice, First Time, Gay Bar, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Matchmaking, OT5, Recreational Drug Use, Voting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviacirce/pseuds/oliviacirce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We should vote," Harry repeats, drawing out the word until it stops sounding like a word, "about whether or not Liam should try dick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	somebody ought to corrupt you on the dance floor (and take you home)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mistresscurvy, harriet_vane, sunsetmog, trinity_clare, and Jack Burden for alpha reading, beta reading, brit picking, encouragement, and general awesomeness. Also, harriet_vane prompted this fic about a million years ago, so it's basically all her fault. 
> 
> Warnings/enticements for recreational drug use, decisions made under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol, meddlesome matchmaking, a boatload of clichés, and One Direction's lack of boundaries. The title is from Vienna Teng's "Never Look Away," because apparently naming Liam/Louis stories after Vienna Teng songs is a thing I do now. This story is 100% fiction and no disrespect is intended towards the real people on whom these characters are based.

"You should at least try it," Harry says, plucking the spliff from Liam's fingers and taking a puff. He exhales a wobbly, lopsided smoke ring and grins, looking pleased with himself. "How d'you know if you don't even try?" 

"I think I just—know," Liam says doubtfully. He hates how Harry always asks difficult questions when they're smoking. "Don't people usually just know that sort of thing? I thought you were, like, born knowing." 

Harry pokes Liam in the thigh with his toes, frowning. "Not me," he says, "don't make assumptions." He hands the spliff down to Niall on the floor, and Niall tilts his head back as he inhales, butting up against Harry's knee. Harry scratches a hand through his hair. "I tried loads of things, before I knew what I liked," Harry continues, "and besides—" Niall holds the spliff up and Harry takes it, passing it over his shoulder to Zayn, who is tucked up between Harry and the arm of the sofa. "Besides, you're single now. Might as well make the most of it, right? Try some things you wouldn't've, with Sophia or Danielle." 

It stings less than it would have a few months ago. That's good, that it's getting easier with time, that Liam's getting on with his life—if maybe not quite in the way Harry's suggesting.

"It's not something he could've tried before, though, is it?" Niall objects. 

"That's my point—" Harry starts, just as Zayn says, "Well, he _could've_ ," which makes Harry stop talking and Niall blink and roll his head to the side to stare up at Zayn. 

Zayn coughs, and takes another drag off the spliff. His cheeks have gone a bit pink. "I'm just saying. There are, like, ways. And whatever. Shut up, bro," he says to Harry's waggling eyebrows, "I'm just _saying_ , we don't know what Liam's got up to in the bedroom." He hands the spliff back to Liam and adds staunchly, "and we don't need to, either." 

"Give me that," Niall says, grabbing the spliff out of Liam's hand. "Zayn just blew my mind." 

Harry giggles, which sets off Liam, like it always does when they're smoking. He's not even sure what they're laughing about, but he's still giggling when Harry says, "But you've done blokes, Zayn."

Zayn shrugs. "Course I have." He quirks a smile at Liam over Harry's shoulder. "Doesn't mean Liam has to, though." 

"Well of course not," Harry says, sounding offended. "I didn't say he had to—I'd never say that, would I? I just think he should be open to new experiences." 

Louis comes into the room right then, his arms piled high with pizza boxes. "What new experiences?" he asks, dropping the boxes on the coffee table, and then taking the spliff from Niall and perching on the arm of the sofa next to Liam. Liam puts an arm around his waist, and Louis leans into his shoulder. "What're we making Liam do now?" 

"Dick," Harry says, and Louis chokes on his inhale. 

Liam pats him on the back, gently, until he stops coughing. "Excuse me?" Louis says finally, to Harry, his voice raspy from coughing. " _What_?" 

Harry grins at him, cheeky and unrepentant. "I was just saying, how can Liam know he's only into girls if he's never done a bloke? He should at least try, is all—make sure, like. I hate to see people limiting their choices." He sounds so mournful on the last bit that Liam starts laughing again. 

Louis swats him on the side of the head. "I can't believe you're letting this go on, Payno. Aren't you supposed to be the sensible one?" 

Liam steals the spliff from Louis and takes another drag. "Not anymore," he says, smiling up at him. Louis rolls his eyes and tugs on Liam's ear. 

"We should vote," Harry says suddenly. Louis raises his eyebrows, looking over Liam's head at Harry. Liam turns his head, too; it's starting to feel a bit fuzzy, weightless like a balloon tethered down to his shoulders—or to Lou, leaning against his shoulder, and Harry, stretched out along the sofa with his feet in Liam's lap. Harry looks very serious. Liam giggles again, and Zayn reaches over Harry to take the spliff out of his unresisting fingers. 

"What are you on about?" Liam asks Harry, poking him in the arm. Harry scowls at him, so Liam does it again.

"Yes, Harry," Louis says, sounding much too sharp. "What _are_ you on about?" 

Harry turns his scowl on Louis. "We should vote," he repeats, drawing out the word until it stops sounding like a word, "about whether or not Liam should try dick." 

"I'm not voting on that," Louis says crossly. Liam leans his head against the back of the sofa to look up at Louis. He looks cross, too, frowning at Harry with his eyes narrowed. "We're not voting on Liam's bloody sexuality, Harry, come on." 

"I didn't say that," Harry says, sounding annoyed. He and Louis are still staring each other down, and Liam's starting to feel twitchy, pinned between them on the sofa. "Just, like—he should be open to new experiences, if they present themselves. With penises. Penii? Penises." Harry's scowl breaks into a grin as he laughs at himself, and he takes another drag from the spliff when Zayn holds it out to him. " _We've_ all done blokes," he adds, "so I don't see why Liam should be the odd one out." 

"S'true," Niall says around a mouthful of pizza. He's alternating bites between two different slices. "It's fine—nothing wrong with it and all, but I still like girls better, mostly." 

"You like pizza better," Zayn says. 

Niall grins up at them with his mouth full of half-chewed pizza; it's disgusting, but Liam is so used to Niall by now that it doesn't even make him blink. "I do," Niall agrees happily. "I'm with Haz, though—new experiences, right? What else are we in this for? Travel the world, play music for millions of people, suck a few dicks. Keep it real, like." 

"Jesus," Louis says, sounding horrified, and also like he's trying not to laugh. "I am not nearly bloody high enough for this conversation. Give me that back, Zayn." He holds out his hand imperiously, and Zayn passes him the spliff. "Liam, aren't you going to stop this? Speak up for yourself?" 

Liam frowns. "I—could?" There's no harm in it, though, and maybe Harry's not entirely wrong. It's what Lou's always saying: _try something new_ , _don't be a stick in the mud, Liam_ , _come out with us_ , _help me pull this prank_. Liam loves it, really—at least, he loves it _now_ , now that he trusts the four of them with everything that matters in his life, because they are most of what matters in his life. If they tell him he should try something new, he should probably listen. "I don't mind," he says, instead. 

" _Jesus_ ," Louis repeats. "Where'd you get this weed, Harry? Liam's gone round the bend." 

"I have not," Liam protests, just as Harry says, "Dunno, friend of somebody's, lad called Chris—Paul vetted him, though, the weed's fine. You've just taught Liam too well, Lou. He trusts us now." 

"S'cause you're trustworthy," Liam says firmly, and then puts his head down on Harry's shoulder. Harry pets his hair, and Liam closes his eyes. "I don't mind, if you want to vote." 

There's a pause. The silence is heavy, fraught like Harry and Louis are having one of their intense, wordless conversations, but Liam can't really be bothered. He's warm and cosy, with Niall leaning against his legs and Harry on one side and Louis on the other. He puts one arm over Harry's shoulders and tangles his fingers with Zayn's. 

"Alright," Harry says finally, "Niall?" 

There's a shuffling noise—Niall putting his pizza down, probably—and then Niall says, in his American announcer's voice, "All in favour of Liam being open to new experiences—" 

"With dick," Harry puts in, which makes Niall snicker. Liam opens his eyes, sitting up a little. If they're voting, he should pay attention. 

Niall raps his fist on the coffee table. "All in favour of Liam trying dick, then," he says, and then his accent shifts back to his own, "if he wants to! At any rate, all in favour of Liam trying more—" he mimics Harry, "—extensive sexual experimentation, now that he is a single man about town, and also a very attractive fellow." 

Liam blinks down at him. "Thanks?" 

Niall shrugs. "Just telling it like it is, mate." 

"I'm in favour," Harry says, raising his hand. Niall and Zayn nod and put their hands up, too. Liam is still thinking it over—it's always a bit weird, voting on yourself, but they've all had practice. They vote on big things and small things, shows and schedules and endorsements and song titles, what club to go to, what to have for breakfast. One time, Lou made them vote on what shoes he should wear. 

" _Zayn_ ," Louis hisses, sounding betrayed. His arms are crossed stubbornly over his chest. 

Zayn tilts his head, frowning at Louis. "There's nothing wrong with being open to new experiences, Lou," he says. "Isn't that what you're always saying?" 

It's a fair point. Nobody's saying Liam has to do anything he doesn't want to do, but Harry and Niall and Zayn have already voted in favour, and Liam does trust them. If they say he should think about this, then he'll listen; that's why they vote. He puts up his free hand. "Okay." Harry smiles at him, looking pleased and a bit smug, and Zayn squeezes his hand.

"All opposed?" Niall asks. 

Louis uncrosses his arms and puts a hand up. "I'd like to register an objection," he says. "This is a terrible idea." 

"Your objection is noted for the record, Mr Tomlinson," Niall intones, "but the ayes carry the vote." 

"There _is_ no record," Louis says crossly. "Give me the pizza, Niall, and stop watching so many crime programmes on the telly, for fuck's sake." 

Niall shrugs, unbothered, and hands one of the pizza boxes up to Louis. Liam steals two slices as the box goes by. He's suddenly very hungry, which he'd almost forgotten he would be, and the pizza smells amazing. He thinks about it while he eats his first slice, and then says, "So, I suppose—we voted, right? So I suppose I should try, like, going to a gay club? Where there are blokes who, you know—like blokes?" It makes sense in his head, but it sounds stupid when he says it; Harry is going to make fun of him forever. 

"Um," Harry says, instead, "well, actually—" 

" _Yes_ , Liam," Louis cuts in, "you should go to a gay club, with gay blokes, who like gay things." 

Harry frowns. "That's not what I—" he starts, but then Zayn leans forward and says something in Harry's ear, too low for Liam to hear, and Harry stops talking. 

Even when his head is light and fuzzy, Liam can tell when he's missing something. "What?" he asks Harry. 

Harry shakes his head slowly, looking at Louis, and then he pats Liam on the knee. "It's nothing, Liam," he says. "That sounds like a good idea, if you want." 

Liam looks at Louis, who's still scowling, and then down at Niall, who is focused entirely on his pizza, and then at Zayn; Zayn usually has an answer. Zayn's also got the spliff, but it's burnt down nearly to embers between his fingers, and he's watching Liam, his eyes soft. "I—" Liam says, mostly to Zayn. "I wouldn't want to go alone, though." 

Zayn's gaze slides up over Liam to Louis. "Louis'll go with you," he offers. 

Louis huffs a familiar, irritated sigh, and Liam is just about to tell him that he doesn't have to, that Liam can manage, that he'll figure something out that won't make Louis unhappy, when Louis says, "Yes, fine, alright. But after that you wankers had better leave Liam alone." 

"Yay," Harry cheers. 

"Oh, shut up," Louis says sharply, but when Liam leans his head against Louis's thigh, Louis's fingers in his hair are gentle and warm. 

* 

Liam's not really sure where they are, but wherever they are is hot, even after the sun's gone down, and the jeans Louis had talked him into before they'd left the hotel are tighter than he's really used to, anymore. He feels sticky and damp in a way that he's noticed only late summer in America can ever really manage. At least the vest he's wearing is cool enough, and Louis'd given him a gratifying once-over before he'd pronounced himself satisfied, but Liam's still worried, even with the heat, that he's underdressed for a club. 

"Relax," Louis says, at his elbow. He's wearing jeans, too—tight black jeans, and one of his tops that's worn thin and stretched at the collar so it shows off his collarbones. "Just pretend you're at your Funky Buddha, only everyone wants a piece of you." 

"So basically the Funky Buddha, then," Liam says, grinning a little. 

Louis swats at him, but Liam can see the flash of his teeth in the dark as he smiles. "You used to be so modest," he sighs. "What happened?" 

"You, mostly," Liam says, which actually does make Louis laugh, and then Paddy's coming back from the door of the club. 

"All ship-shape?" Louis asks, a bit too brightly. 

Paddy nods. "You're good to go, lads," he says, ignoring Louis's tone with the ease of long practice. "I'll keep an eye on the crowd inside, but it should be fine. Not really your usual scene, and all." 

"Mmm," Louis murmurs, sounding skeptical, but Paddy knows his business, and it's not like they've never done this before, gone out to clubs and bars and pubs where they wouldn't be noticed or recognised. A lot of the world still doesn't care about One Direction, or doesn't care enough to talk about them, even if they do get recognised; and whilst Liam's never exactly gone on the pull in a gay club, before, he knows Louis and Harry and Zayn all have, from time to time, without anyone the wiser. 

"Thanks, Paddy," Liam says, and then he grabs Louis's hand and tugs him into the club with Paddy on their heels. 

Inside, it's like most other clubs Liam's been to in America—not comfortable, exactly, but not unfamiliar. There are some girls, though they mostly look a bit older, and then there are a lot of blokes, out on the dance floor and leaning against the bar, and talking, and kissing. That part might be a bit different from most of the clubs Liam been to, but the music isn't: it's loud, and heavy, and Liam's already feeling the beat in his toes as he pulls Louis towards the bar. 

Liam orders drinks for both of them, and when the barman slides them across the bar he gives Liam a long, slow smile. "First time here?" 

Liam laughs. "That obvious, mate?" 

The barman shakes his head, still smiling, and then his eyes are sliding down Liam's body and back up, which is about as blatant a come-on as Liam has ever seen. "No," he says, "but I would've remembered somebody who looked like you." 

"Um," Liam says, feelings his cheeks heat, and then Louis's turning in towards him, taking his drink off the bar and leveling the barman with one of the looks he usually reserves for interviewers who ask stupid questions. 

"We're just passing through," Louis says coolly. "Only in town tonight." 

The barman takes a step back, laughing and holding up his hands. "Okay, okay," he says, "no hard feelings, yeah? Sorry, man." 

"Hmm," Louis says, but then he lifts his beer bottle a little in acknowledgment, and turns back to the dance floor. The barman gives Liam a wink, and what looks like a sheepish smile, and then moves down the bar to help someone else. Liam looks sidelong at Louis, and shrugs. It's the kind of thing Louis does, and Liam doesn't really mind. 

They watch the dance floor in silence for a few minutes, until Liam's twitching, tapping his foot and his fingers in time with the beat, feeling the rhythm getting under his skin, at which point Louis pokes him in the side. "Go dance, babe," Louis says, when Liam turns to look at him. 

"Yeah?" Liam asks, knocking back his drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. 

Louis rolls his eyes. "What we're here for, isn't it?" 

Liam grins at him, feeling a little reckless. "Thought I was here to pull." 

Louis frowns, suddenly serious. "Only if you want to, Liam," he says. "Whatever the fuck Harry said, this is like—only if it's what you want, alright?" 

"I know," Liam says, surprised. "Lou, I know." He tugs Louis in by the wrist and hugs him. At first Louis is a little stiff, resisting, but then he relaxes into Liam with a grumbled sigh. "It's fine," Liam adds, because it is; he doesn't quite understand why Louis is so against this, when they voted and everything, but he knows he doesn't want Louis to worry. "Anyway, right now I just want to dance." 

Louis laughs, pulling away from the hug. He looks softer, his eyes fond. "Well, go on," he says, and gives Liam a little shove out onto the floor. 

*

Liam _loves_ dancing. He's loved dancing at clubs ever since he stopped being afraid of looking stupid, and it's got even better since he started drinking—not that he didn't enjoy it before, but there's something about the way the buzz of the alcohol makes him feel looser, mixes and blends with the heat of the crowd and the rhythm of the music and the heavy drum of the bass beats in his fingers and toes. Dancing is a little like training, because he's entirely in his body, and it's a little like performing, because it lights him up. 

He likes the anonymity of it, too—that part's nothing at all like being on stage—and for a while he dances by himself, and with anybody who seems to want to dance with him. He realizes after the music's changed a few times that there seem to be loads of guys who want to dance with him, that he hasn't been alone on the floor for even a couple of seconds, and that the people around him are dancing much closer than blokes generally do at the Funky Buddha. That's fine, though; they're good dancers, and Liam's having a good time, and anyway the blokes dancing with him keep changing, nobody seeming to stay in one place for very long. 

For a while that's the way it goes, until one of the guys settles in and stays, dancing with Liam and not letting anyone else take his place. He's quick on his feet, lithe and hot, and he laughs a little when Liam misses a beat, but without any malice, and he's got a bright, wicked smile; and when the music slows for a second, he leans in and says, "Hey man, I'm Marcus." 

"Liam," Liam says, smiling back. "Nice to meet you, mate." 

"You're British," Marcus says, sounding surprised, but then the music picks up again and they get back to dancing. 

It gets dirtier, after that. Liam's a little turned on already, just from the dancing, the rhythm and the press of bodies on the dance floor, and he's not surprised to find himself halfway hard in his jeans when Marcus grinds back against him; he's a little surprised at how hot it is, though, and then they turn and _Marcus's_ dick is pressing up against _Liam's_ arse, and that's—yeah, okay, so Liam can see the appeal. He grinds back into it, turns until their hips are flush and he can feel the hard length of Marcus's dick against his own, hot through both their jeans, and then there's a whole lot more grinding. Liam runs his hands up Marcus's arms to his shoulders, lets Marcus get his hands on his arse and squeeze, _fuck_ —and then Marcus puts his mouth right over Liam's ear and says, "You want to get out of here?" 

The question jolts Liam out of the haze of heat and arousal and music, and all of a sudden Louis's _only if you want to_ is echoing in his head. He does want to; Marcus is hot, and an amazing dancer, and Liam kind of wants to know what his dick would feel like in his hand, so obviously Harry had a point. Except—Liam doesn't _know_ Marcus. He seems nice, but he's a stranger. Liam doesn't really know him at all.

He glances up over Marcus's shoulder, looking for Louis, and finds him still leaning against the bar. He's watching them with an intent, focused look that Liam can't quite place, even though he knows almost all of Louis's looks. "Um," he says awkwardly, "well, I—"

Marcus turns, following his gaze, and his eyebrows raise when he sees Louis. "I thought you were here alone," he says, sounding wrong-footed. 

Liam shakes his head. "No, he just doesn't really like to dance." It's not quite true, because Liam can almost always get Louis to dance when he wants him to, but it's close enough. 

"He likes to watch you dance, though," Marcus points out, looking back and forth between them. He's frowning, brow furrowed, and Liam feels terrible, suddenly, because Marcus is lovely, it's just— "I'd be cool with a threesome," Marcus says. 

Liam blinks, not understanding for a second, and then he's staring, eyes wide and mouth half-open in shock. His whole body is suddenly hot, like he's blushing all over. "I, uh, no," he stammers, when he can make words. "That's not—" Why would Marcus think that? "I think I'd better go," he says, in a rush, "thanks for the—yeah. You're a great dancer," he gets out, and flees. So much for not being an utter lemon when he talks to literally anybody he finds attractive, girls or boys. 

"Nice moves," Louis says dryly, when Liam arrives at the bar next to him. He hands Liam a glass of water and another drink, though, which softens the mockery. 

"I'm a lemon," Liam says miserably, putting his head down on the bar. It's sticky under his cheek, which is actually pretty disgusting. 

Louis pats his back. "We know, love." There's a pause, and eventually Liam lifts his head and reaches for his drink. "What happened?" Louis asks, finally, after Liam has nearly finished his drink and is starting to get twitchy. He sounds uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Liam's not sure what to say; it's like he's feeling too many different things at once to know how to put them into words, which usually means he should write a song or talk to Louis, but—maybe he just needs a little time to sort out his own head. "Can we go?" he asks, instead. "It's—I'm fine, I just, I think I want to go home." 

"Okay," Louis says easily, and then he puts his arm around Liam's shoulders and pulls him close. "Let's go home." 

*

Home is a hotel, of course, but Harry and Niall and Zayn are still awake when they get back, all three of them curled up on the bed in Harry's room and watching _Clueless_ on pay per view. 

"You're back early," Harry says. Liam toes off his shoes and gets on the bed, crawling on top of Niall and Harry and putting his head in Harry's lap. Harry pets Liam's hair, frowning down at him. "Everything alright?" 

"Liam met a nice boy and behaved like a lemon," Louis says, in his driest voice. He follows Liam onto the bed more slowly, settling next to Zayn with his back against the headboard. 

Harry looks perplexed, although it's possible he just seems that way because from Liam's vantage point all of his expressions are upside down. "But—" he starts, and then bites his lip. "Well, why?" 

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Have you _met_ Liam?" 

Harry rolls his eyes. "Don't listen to Lou, Liam," he says, his fingers still stroking gently through Liam's hair, "you're lovely, and anybody would be lucky to have you." 

Liam sighs, turning his face a little into Harry's hands. On the television behind him, Alicia Silverstone is failing her driving test. "Maybe," he says, "but, I don't know. Marcus was lovely, and then I ran away." He doesn't think he was wrong to run, really—he'd liked what he'd seen of Marcus, but going home with him and leaving Louis at the club wouldn't have been right. The other thing Marcus offered is so much to think about that his mind is still skirting around it, refusing to settle. 

"You see what comes of meddling, Harry?" Louis says. He's fixing Harry with one of his serious looks, and his voice is serious, too, not the light teasing thing that Liam would expect. There's something else going on, Liam thinks, and thinks it again when Harry ignores Louis's look to smile down at Liam, sweet and guileless. 

"Why did you run away from lovely Marcus, then?" Harry asks, widening his eyes a little with the question. 

"Stop interrogating him, Haz," Niall says, rubbing a hand soothingly over Liam's knee. 

Liam shakes his head. "No, it's okay." He doesn't want to try to hold it in, not when his boys are all right there. "It's, just, like—well, to be fair, I've never really gone on the pull like that for girls, either, have I? I just—I date people. I date people I know, and I don't know why I thought it would be different with blokes, but it's not. I still don't want to fuck somebody I don't know." 

There's a thoughtful silence, and then Zayn says, "That makes sense, actually." 

"Yeah, well," Liam says. He's a bit embarrassed, but very grateful for Zayn. "Thanks, Zaynie." 

"So it _wasn't_ the dick that was the problem," Harry puts in, a little too keenly. 

"No," Liam agrees, "that bit was—fine, actually." It was more than fine; but Liam still doesn't want to fuck somebody he doesn't know.

"So fuck a bloke you know, then," Niall suggests brightly. "You know loads of blokes." 

Liam blinks up at him, at Niall's open, cheerful, beloved face, and says blankly, "What, like you?" 

Niall falls off the bed laughing. Liam sits up, leaning against Harry's chest and looking down at Niall, who is rolling around on the floor and clutching his stomach, and starts to feel a little offended. He knows he can be awkward, but surely somebody who loves him would be able to see past that, would want him anyway. 

He turns to look at Zayn, who is the most attractive person Liam has ever met, and also one of the people he loves best in the world. "Zayn?" 

Zayn smiles at him, but then he shakes his head. "Sorry, bro. You're hot and all, and I love you, but me and Perrie are, like, doing the monogamy thing now. You know?" He scratches his head, looking a little sheepish. Liam wonders if he should be disappointed, but—well, Zayn is gorgeous, but Liam's not entirely sure he would want to fuck him, after all. Zayn may not be perfect, but sometimes he comes a little too close for comfort.

Liam glances over at Louis, but Louis is looking at Zayn with his eyes narrowed. Liam thinks Louis looks pale, his mouth gone tight at the corners, and he won't look at Liam, not even when Zayn shakes his head and Louis's shoulders relax.

Liam is still trying to figure out what to say to get Louis to look at him when Harry folds his arms around Liam's chest and rests his chin on his shoulder. "I'd fuck you, Liam," he says, low and sultry. 

All of Liam's breath goes out of him in a rush. Harry is—well, _Harry_ , and he thinks about turning into it, thinks about saying yes, only then Louis is swinging himself off the bed with his hands clenched into fists. 

"I'm not fucking doing this," Louis snaps, harsh and clipped, and then he's storming out of the hotel room before anybody can say anything else. 

There's a long moment, after he goes, when nobody moves, and Liam feels the pieces fall into place in his head, clicking together like a song: Harry and Louis's wordless conversations, and the way he'd fled from Marcus, and Louis's long looks at him, across the club, across the stage, _everywhere_ —

"Lou's right, you know," Zayn says, after a minute, "this is what comes of meddling." 

"Somebody had to," Harry says, sounding almost contrite. "I just—I couldn't take it anymore." He lets go of Liam, and gives him a fond pat on the shoulder. "Sorry, Liam," he says. "I don't really want to fuck you. I mean, I would, because you are really bloody hot, but it would be weird. Anyway, I'm like—pretty busy, right now, actually." 

"Don't brag," Niall says, from the floor.

"Oh my god," Liam says, and then he's scrambling up off the bed. "Oh my _god_ , Louis—"

"Fucking _finally_ ," he hears Harry say behind him, but he's already out the door. 

*

Louis's room is just down the corridor, and Liam knocks instead of opening the door with his key card, suddenly nervous. 

Louis opens the door after a minute. "What the fuck do you want?" he demands, his eyes still furious. "I thought you were going to fuck Harry or whatever. Go do that. I don't fucking care." 

"Um," Liam says. "No, I—no. Can I come in?" 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Louis says, but he steps back and lets Liam into the room, swinging the door back with enough force that it ricochets off the wall before it slams closed. Liam winces, but Louis doesn't flinch. Instead, he stalks back across the room, pacing the floor in front of the bed. With his hair still long, tumbling around his face like a mane, he looks like a caged lion, which is—well, among other things, quite a lot hotter than Liam had previously realized. He thinks that maybe he's always been attracted to Louis, always been drawn to him like a magnet, only he didn't know what it was, when it was frustration, and then friendship, and then something a little different from all the other inseparable bonds he has with his band. The ways he loves Harry and Zayn and Niall and Louis are all different, individual and special, but with Louis, there's always been something like competition, pushing each other and pushing back, and it surprises Liam less than it probably should that somehow it's turned into desire. 

"I'm not going to fuck Harry," Liam says abruptly. Louis stills, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or Marcus, or Zayn, or Niall, or—or anybody else." 

"What's it to me?" Louis demands. 

"I—oh," Liam says helplessly, because he doesn't have an answer for that. He doesn't know what to say. He _never_ knows what to say; Harry had to ask out Danielle for him, and Sophia pretty much sat on him until she got what she wanted. He's never—he has no idea what he's doing. 

"Oh my god," Louis says, raking both hands through his hair. "Are you _actually stupid_ ," and then he's crossing the room and yanking on Liam's belt loops until Liam overbalances, has to catch himself with one hand on Louis's bicep and the other on his waist, and then Louis kisses him. 

Louis's mouth is hot and hard against his, rough like he's not sure whether he wants it to be a kiss or a challenge; it doesn't matter, though, because Liam always meets Louis's challenges. He kisses him back just as hard, opens his mouth and lets Louis in, bites back when Louis sinks his teeth into Liam's lower lip. Liam's never had a first kiss like this, zero to three hundred without a moment of adjustment, without hesitation. It feels like they've always been kissing, and he's shaking with it suddenly, holding on tightly to Louis while they kiss. 

"Jesus Christ," Louis gasps, pulling back. They're both breathing hard, and Liam's twisted the sleeve of Louis's t-shirt entirely out of shape.

"I'm not stupid," Liam says, even though it seems less important now. "You could've said something." 

Louis leans his forehead against Liam's, laughing a little. His hands are stroking down Liam's sides. "Oh, of course, because you'd ever shown any sign of being interested in boys before this bloody stupid stunt of Harry's." 

"Not that stupid, as it turns out," Liam protests, and then, "but—I— _you_ —" He knows he's not making much sense, but in his defence Louis's got his hands under Liam's vest and is tugging it off over his head. 

"Yes," Louis says sharply, flattening his hands on Liam's bare chest, and fixing him with so familiar a look of fond exasperation that Liam has to bend his head and kiss Louis's neck. Louis shivers, but he keeps talking. "Because, like—what, I was going to risk everything? I was going to make a complete fool of myself to my _best friend_ and _bandmate_ and _writing partner_ just on the off chance that maybe I could convince you to give it a go, when as far as I knew you were one of the straightest blokes I'd ever met? Come off it, Liam." 

Liam sucks a love bite into the hollow of Louis's throat, slow and thorough until Louis is making tiny, breathless moans and digging his fingertips into Liam's shoulders, and then Liam lifts his head, runs his thumb over the mark. He may be new to this, but it doesn't seem that complicated. "I think when I love someone, the bits just—aren't that important," he offers. 

"When you love someone," Louis repeats. 

Liam ducks his head, but then he has to look right back up again because he can't actually bear to look away from Louis. Louis's eyes are very bright, and the corners of his mouth are turning up in one of his dazzling smiles. "Well, yeah," Liam says breathlessly, and then they're kissing again, softer this time, but just as urgent. 

"Hang on," Louis says a moment later, pulling out of the kiss. Somehow, he's gotten Liam backed up against the hotel room door; the door is cold against the bare skin of Liam's back, so he tugs Louis closer, warm all along his front. "Are you saying my bits aren't important?" Louis demands, sounding offended, but also like he's trying not to laugh. 

"Um—" Liam starts, but then Louis is pressing up against him, spreading Liam's legs apart with his thigh—and fuck, because Louis's _thighs_ , strong and muscular and hot even through their jeans—and pushing in until Liam can feel the whole hard length of Louis's dick.

"My bits are very important," Louis says sharply. "They may even be the most important bits in the whole world, right now." He bites Liam's earlobe, and then slides his teeth down Liam's neck. Liam thinks that maybe he's supposed to be arguing, but Louis is _right there_ , so instead he grabs Louis's arse with both hands and grinds them together, until their dicks are flush and Louis's hips are jerking against his. 

"Oh, fuck, Liam," Louis gasps, and then he's scrabbling at Liam's belt, getting it undone and going for the button of his jeans. "These jeans are bloody indecent," he adds crossly, after a minute of trying to shove them down Liam's hips and kiss him at the same time. 

Liam knows he's not being much help, but he can't seem to take his hands off Louis's arse. "You talked me into them," he points out. 

Astonishingly, Louis blushes. "I—yeah," he says. "They're fucking hot, Liam, and at least I could look, even if—" 

"Oh," Liam breathes, shocked and pleased. 

"I just didn't think I'd be taking them _off_ you at the end of the night," Louis continues. He lets go of Liam, stepping back out of Liam's reach and shaking his shoulders back, like he always does when he's made up his mind, when he's got a plan. "Right," he says firmly, and then he goes to his knees. 

Liam stares down at him. "Lou—" he gets out, but Louis just gives him a wicked smile and gets Liam's jeans and boxers the rest of the way off with one hard tug. 

"Right," Louis says again, more slowly; he's looking at Liam's dick. Liam watches helplessly as Louis's tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "I'm going to suck you off now," Louis says, still staring at Liam's dick. "If that's alright." 

Liam's not at all sure the hotel room door is sturdy enough to hold him up. "Has—" he starts to ask, but his voice is so rough that he has to clear his throat and try again. "Has anybody ever said no to that? Because, like— _what was wrong with them_?"

Louis giggles involuntarily. "Loads of things, clearly," he says, grinning up at Liam, and then Liam watches his expression change, watches Louis bite his lip and give Liam a hot look from under his lashes. "Can I, Liam?"

" _Fuck_ ," Liam says, so turned on that he thinks he might actually die. "Yes. _Please_ , Lou." 

Louis smiles, quick and bright and satisfied, and then he's leaning in and wrapping his fist around Liam's dick. He licks over the head, tongues Liam's foreskin, and slides his mouth down so slowly that Liam can barely breathe. He presses his hands to the door, trying to hold on, but Louis's mouth feels so good that he's already falling apart, breathing out in hot, desperate gasps. 

He doesn't think he's going to last very long at all, but a minute later Louis pulls off his dick and frowns up at him. His mouth is so red that Liam has to put a shaking hand over his eyes, just for a second. "You can pull my hair," Louis says. He sounds almost cross, like Liam isn't keeping up with one of his plans. "You don't have to be so polite." 

Liam blinks, takes his hand off his eyes. "I— _really_?" 

"Yeah." Louis's mouth quirks; Liam's caught up now, and they can go on. "If you _want_. Come on, Liam, don't be such a stick in the mud," he taunts, and then he's sliding his mouth back down Liam's dick. 

Liam lets go of the door, and reaches out to tangle his fingers in Louis's hair. Louis's hair is soft, familiar from years of cuddling and touching and living in each other's pockets, but this is—this is different. He tightens his fingers slowly, experimentally, and then tugs. Louis makes an appreciative noise, humming his approval around Liam's dick, and just like that Liam loses it. Before he even knows what he's doing, he's pulling hard on Louis's hair as Louis swallows around him, and fucking Louis's mouth. He can't seem to help it, though, not when Louis is urging him on with a hand on his arse, and sucking Liam all the way down. Louis's moaning, too, hot and desperate, and when Liam manages to drag his eyes open for long enough to look down at him, that's enough, too much, and he barely manages to gasp out a warning before he's coming down Louis's throat. 

Louis swallows, sucking him until Liam's shivering and oversensitised and his grip on Louis's hair is the only thing keeping him upright, and then Louis leans his forehead against Liam's bare hip, breathing hard. 

"Fuck," Liam says helplessly, when he can speak again. "Lou, _fuck_." 

Louis laughs a little against his hip. "I've been wanting to do that for a really long time," he admits, his voice rough and raspy and low, sounding really just exactly like he's been sucking cock. 

"I'm sorry I didn't know," Liam says apologetically. He relaxes his grip on Louis's hair, stroking instead of pulling. 

Louis shakes his head, sitting back on his heels to look up at Liam. "You are a bit of a lemon," he says fondly, "but I like you anyway." 

Liam smiles down at him, and then it's impossible not to slide his hand around to cup Louis's face and rub his fingertips over Louis's wet mouth. Louis bites his fingers. "Come up here," Liam says, and Louis gets to his feet. Liam reels him in and kisses him, open-mouthed, tasting himself on Louis's tongue. 

Louis plasters himself to Liam, grinding his dick into the hollow of Liam's hip. He feels amazing, the lines of his body completely familiar and utterly new at the same time; he gets both arms around Liam's back, and kisses him wet and a little sloppy, grinding his hips against Liam's in a rhythm that's almost like they're dancing. Liam thinks that Louis could probably come just from this, but—Liam wants to touch him. Louis's still wearing all his clothes. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," he says, pulling out of the kiss and licking down Louis's neck, sucking kisses along his collarbone. "Get your kit off, Lou." 

"It's a bit hard when you're doing that," Louis gasps, "fuck, Liam," but Liam ignores him and tugs on the hem of Louis's t-shirt until Louis raises his arms and lets him pull it off. "Alright, okay," Louis says, laughing a little, and then he steps back to undo his own jeans, shoving them down and getting his shoes off and then his pants, hopping on one leg at a time and still managing to look graceful; and then he's naked. Liam's seen him naked before, but not like this, not hard and leaking and flushed, with his fist wrapped tight around the base of his dick. 

" _Lou_ ," he breathes, and reaches out with both hands at once. 

Louis steps right back into his arms, grinning, and then he stops grinning and groans low and rough in the back of his throat when Liam cups his arse with one hand and gets the other hand around his dick. For a minute, both their hands are on Louis's dick, fists pressed together, and then Louis lets go. "How do you like my bits now?" he asks, breathless and mocking and beautiful. 

"I like them," Liam says, sliding his fist down Louis's dick and back up again. The angle's a bit strange, but he doesn't mind; doesn't mind the warm, soft skin of Louis's dick in his hand, doesn't mind being able to see, when he looks down between them, strokes his thumb over the head, wet and slick and red. 

Louis sucks in a shuddering breath and puts his head down on Liam's shoulder, clinging to Liam while Liam wanks him off. He's loud, louder than Liam expected, though he probably should've known, and he moans Liam's name, bites at Liam's shoulder. "Harder, Liam, fuck," Louis gasps, fingertips pressing into Liam's hips, and Liam complies, wanking him harder and faster until Louis goes quiet and comes between them, all over Liam's fist and belly and up his chest, so hot that Liam's shaking almost as much as Louis is. Liam holds Louis close while he shakes through the aftershocks, until he finally lifts his head to look at Liam. 

"Yeah?" Louis asks. His mouth is red and bitten, and his hair is all over the place from Liam's hands, and he's flushed, and gorgeous, and _Liam's_. 

"Yeah," Liam agrees, and then he laughs. "We didn't even make it to the bed, Lou." 

Louis shrugs, unconcerned. "The bed's not going anywhere, is it?" 

"No," Liam says, shivering a little at the feeling of Louis's hands stroking down his back. "But, like—c'mon, babe. I think the door's had enough, and my knees could go at any moment." 

"Mmm," Louis mutters, not sounding convinced, but he steps back when Liam straightens, and lets Liam tug him over to the bed and down onto the duvet. Louis rolls on top of Liam as soon as they're on the bed, sliding his leg between Liam's and tucking his face into Liam's shoulder, and Liam wraps his arms around Louis, instinctive and familiar. They've cuddled like this before, loads of times, but not naked and sticky and spent, and the warmth and pressure of Louis's naked skin has Liam wondering how soon they can go again. 

"Why'd you really run away from Marcus, then?" Louis asks suddenly, his voice rumbling against Liam's chest. 

Liam bites his lip. "I said," he hedges. "I mean, I meant what I said before. I don't like fucking people I don't know, not really." 

"Yes," Louis says patiently, "I know that, love, but why'd you _run_?" 

Liam sits up a little, dislodging Louis so that they can look at each other. Louis props himself up on the pillows, legs still tangled with Liam's, and fixes him with a look that says, _I'm waiting_. 

"Well," Liam says, "he saw you, and then he said he'd be up for a threesome." 

Louis's eyes widen, surprised, and then he grins. "You could've said yes." 

Liam fixes him with a look of his own, perfected by years of practice. "I really couldn't've." 

Louis's grin turns pleased, and he ducks his head. "Well, okay." There's a pause, while Liam waits and Louis picks a little at the pillowcase, and then Louis adds, "I'm sorry for, like—frightening off all the other blokes, or whatever." 

"No, you're not," Liam says. 

Louis looks up quickly, starting to frown, and then he sees Liam's face and relaxes. "No," he murmurs, "I'm really not." He leans in for a kiss, but stops just short of Liam's mouth. "I am sorry I didn't say anything before, though." 

Louis doesn't apologize easily, but Liam knows when he means it, so he leans the rest of the way in to kiss him, slow and sweet and thorough. "That's alright," he says, "we got here in the end." Then he slides his hand up Louis's thigh. "Just don't go anywhere, because I've got loads of new things I want to try." 

Louis laughs. "I wouldn't dream of it." 

*

In the morning, Liam and Louis arrive at Niall's room for breakfast, very late and still damp from the shower—the second shower, because they'd got a bit distracted during the first one. Liam is wearing Louis's trackies, and Louis has a love bite quite a bit above the collar of his t-shirt, and there's really no question whatsoever about what they've been doing. 

"Hah," Harry says, pumping both fists into the air. He overbalances, knocking his chair over and landing on the floor underneath the table. "Ow," he says, a little plaintively, but then he sits up and moves back to lean against the sofa, where Zayn is propped up against the pillows and drinking a cup of coffee with his eyes still closed. "You owe me twenty bucks," Harry says, holding his hand out to Niall. 

Niall rolls his eyes, and fishes twenty dollars out of his pocket, leaning over to slap it into Harry's hand. 

Liam goes over to the bar and puts the kettle back on, getting out tea and milk and sugar and mugs for himself and Louis. Lou will want his tea, and he always seems happiest when Liam makes it for him. 

"Why did you bet with American money?" Louis demands, sitting down at the table next to Niall and stealing a piece of his toast. 

"The bet," Niall says, around a mouthful of eggs, "was that you two idiots would stop being idiots before we left America. I think Harry cheated, though. I said it wouldn't happen until Australia, and Zayn refused to place a bet. Sucker." He doesn't seem overly bothered by this, but he's also not finished his breakfast. 

Liam looks at Louis, raising his eyebrows. Louis looks back, the same long look that he always gives Liam, only now Liam can read everything behind it, affection and desire and satisfaction and amusement, and he ducks his head to hide his grin, smiling so hard that his face hurts. 

"I may not have thought this through," Harry says, sounding bemused. "Niall, what if they're _worse_ now that they're not being idiots?" 

Niall shrugs, and takes another bite of his eggs. 

Liam finishes fixing the tea and goes back over to the table, sliding Louis's mug in front of him and then perching on the arm of his chair. Louis leans into him, taking Liam's hand and twining their fingers together. Liam lifts their hands to his mouth, and kisses Louis's knuckles. 

"It's what you get," Louis says smugly. "We voted and everything."


End file.
